


Stare Up at the Sun

by dizzy



Category: Struck by Lightning (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to If I Lose Myself: http://archiveofourown.org/works/903895</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stare Up at the Sun

Remission is the most beautiful word in the English language if you ask Carson. 

At least if you ask him on the right day. The right day happens to fall in late June. 

He sits in the doctor's office with Aaron. Their hands are clutched tightly in the space between their chairs. It's a concession to Carson's usual distaste for public displays of affection. Right now he couldn't tear himself away from the lifeline if he tried. 

He feels like he's spent most of the week with Aaron comforting him, and not the other way around. Aaron's had more time to get used to this. Carson struggles under the weight of fear, fear for what it means if this hasn't worked. Surgery - more chemo - more months of Aaron's life stifled while his body tries to fight sickness and treatment alike. 

But the doctor announces, with a lightness he's lacked before, that Aaron is in remission. 

*

Aaron feels better, and with that comes a kind of wanderlust that Carson's experienced before but never to this level. A drive to the beach cured it in him; Aaron needs more. 

"Come on," Aaron urges, eyes wide and so fucking beautifully hopeful that Carson just wants to slap him back into reality. Carson has always resented what he did not understand, while somehow resenting that same quality in others. His mind is a complicated place but it has nothing on the tangled web of his emotional responses. "Do it. Quit your job. We'll sell one of our cars. We can just travel around. It'll be amazing." 

It sounds awful to Carson. It sounds like instability and questionable hygiene and bad planning, a waste of the money he's saved from so many hours of hard work. 

"No." He doesn't even consider saying yes, and that's probably the worst part of it. He's got a gift for lashing out before people can get to him first, and as much as he maybe should be, even Aaron isn't the exception. 

"Oh." Aaron is downcast but the set of his mouth tells Carson he's not giving up. "Well, we could just-"

"If you want to go so badly," Carson snaps. "Then just go." 

Aaron's eyes go wide. "I wasn't-" 

"Go!" Carson's voice rises. "Just fucking go." 

Aaron stares at him and it hurts, it hurts to be looked at like that. 

It also hurts to realize that Aaron might never stop wanting to be somewhere besides where he is, and Carson isn't prepared to change his life like that for anyone. 

With someone, maybe, but not for them. 

"I said go," Carson says again. 

He probably won't ever forget the crushed look on Aaron's face when Carson slams the door on him. 

* 

The break up lasts three weeks, and in the interim Carson makes a decision. He makes it quickly and brutally, because it feels like he'd started to plan for a future that suddenly isn't going to happen and there's no undoing only a little part of it. He needs a clean slate. 

He applies to five grad schools in five different cities, each a place that headquarters a company he'd like to one day run. He does the applications one after another, in the span of an afternoon. The essays are sickeningly easy to write. The letters of recommendation only take a further day to acquire. He writes them himself and professors are happy enough to sign off on them. 

He doesn't feel better when it's done, but he at least feels productive. 

* 

Of course, Aaron comes back. 

They yell, Aaron confused and hurt, Carson confused and hurt, until they stop letting the confusion and the hurt come through as anger and realize that they have the power to make it better for each other. 

They fuck that night, and Aaron pins him down. His body is teeming with renewed strength, and Carson feels flush with all the untapped potential there. He's so glad to have Aaron back that he doesn't mind losing a little bit of control. 

Later, Carson will hate that he made Aaron be the one to come to him. He'll understand and be humbled again by how much of a prick he can be to the people he loves. 

Maybe Aaron can help him work on that. 

*

Carson makes Aaron meet him in the coffee shop for lunch one day. It's Aaron's day off, but he's one of those freaks that loves where he works and never minds showing up after hours. 

(He loves being able to actually work again, too, though he tells Carson that his boss still treats him like he's made of glass.) 

"Are you being a romantic?" Aaron says, sliding into the seat after leaning over for a quick kiss hello. "Is this an anniversary I forgot or something?" 

He's five minutes late, but that's fine. It gave Carson time to mull and contemplate. He really doesn't do enough of that. It also helps that by now Carson knows to factor in time for lateness with Aaron. He runs on his own clock most days. 

Carson gives him a tight smile and pushes an envelope across the table. 

Aaron looks a little more troubled as he opens it. His eyes go wide and then his face lights up. 

Carson pushes the second envelope to him. 

And then the third. 

"Fuck," Aaron breathes out. 

He doesn't just look happy - he looks _proud_. 

The smile starts as an involuntary twitch and it grows quickly. Aaron's happy; now Carson can let himself be, too. 

*

They decide together. 

They decide on New York. 

"With one condition," Aaron says. 

Carson isn't a fan of conditions. He's immediately suspicious. "What?" 

"I want you to come home with me for a few days," Aaron says. Carson, mindful of the last time he'd said no to Aaron and in no hurry to repeat the experience, is already finding it in him to break down the walls of his comfort zone enough to step over them for this. He'll do it, for Aaron, he'll put himself through that - but not what Aaron asks for next. "And then I want to go home with you." 

He thinks of that one phone call, that whim, and how it left him feeling worse and better in uneven measures. There hadn't been anything smooth about it; no joyful reunion scene, just stilted conversation while he tried not to listen to his mother's tears and a meaningless promise to call again some time soon when they hung up. 

"No," he says, and then finds himself repeating it frequently but with less conviction each time until Aaron wears him down.

* 

Aaron gets his road trip with Carson. 

They could fly, Aaron even mentions it, assuming Carson will want that - 

But Carson feels like some amends need to be made, and he sees how Aaron's face lights up at the mention of it. 

He takes two weeks off of work. He gets maps and plots the most efficient route. 

He lets Aaron add in some stops that will kill their good timing, but the excitement is infectious if he lets himself forget the destination. 

*

The trip to see Aaron's parents is - 

Well. 

It's about as awkward as Carson expects. He sleeps on a lumpy couch, is party to a few touching family moments he'd desperately rather not witness, responds badly and sometimes rudely to personal questions asked by virtual strangers, and yet still somehow spends the entire brief stay dreading the conclusion of it. 

Because after that comes Clover. 

He'd thought nothing short of burying another family member could lure him back there, to that place he still feels uneasy calling home though that's what it was and will forever remain no matter how much he'd like to revise his own history. 

But Aaron asked, and so Carson finds himself in a car headed down a highway that will take him to the last place on earth he wants to be. 

They drive with the windows rolled down, Aaron behind the wheel. Carson looks over at him, admires the absent smile on his face and the things the crazy wind does to his hair. "You're dangerous," Carson says. 

Aaron looks over at him and smiles. "And you love danger?" 

"No," Carson says. "Just you." 

Sometimes Aaron gets him talking and saying things that make him feel too vulnerable, so Carson looks away then, out the window, and doesn't say anything else for a while. 

* 

It's almost terrifying how exactly the same everything is. 

Carson's legs suddenly seem to not want to work. Aaron's already killed the engine and is looking at him, the most peculiar expression on his face. "Um. Babe?" He says, hesitantly. "Are you okay? You look like you're gonna hurl." 

Swallowing down on the urge that he realizes actually is there, Carson makes himself open the door and get out. 

"She doesn't know we're coming," he says, almost an afterthought as they walk toward the door. 

"Wait, what?" Aaron stops walking and grabs his arm. "You never called her?" 

Carson shakes his head. "And if she's not home, we're leaving. That's - that's it. One chance." 

He tells himself that isn't disappointment on Aaron's face as he moves ahead to knock on the door. 

* 

She's home. 

Of course she's home. 

She's skinnier than before. Her hair is cut differently and dyed, but a mess. She's wearing a shirt with a stain on it and pants that might seem to match if you only saw her in a dimly lit room. 

Carson flushes with embarrassment that this is all he has to offer Aaron... this bitter, lonely woman. 

This bitter, lonely woman - whose face lights up and who starts to cry almost instantly. 

She doesn't reach for him, just stares at him like she's seen a ghost. Neither of them say a word, until Carson feels Aaron's hand at the small of his back. 

Carson's mother startles, like she hadn't even realized someone else was with him. "H-hi." Her voice jumps scratchy, and she finishes with a little sob as he gaze jerks back over to Carson. "Oh my God, you're actually here." 

"Can we come in?" Carson says, overly polite in a way that doesn't suit him well. 

"Of course. Of course, Carson, this is your home, you don't have to ask - of course." She steps aside so they can enter. 

* 

Aaron knows what Carson's mother did to him. He's heard the story a few times now - mostly spat out in anger that's never really dimmed all that much, but once or twice with drunken remorse. 

Aaron knows about the phone call, too. He'd known right away when he left the appointment that day that something was different about Carson. It hadn't taken him that long to get the full story out. He'd kissed Carson and said he was glad, but hadn't pushed for any more than that at the time. They'd both had bigger things to worry about. 

Now they're here and Carson regrets all those secrets spilled because he feels like Aaron is recalling every word now that they're here at the scene of the crime. 

His mother bustles around, straightening up and collecting wine glasses. She knocks a pill bottle onto the floor and they both pretend not to notice her kicking it under the table. "Are you boys hungry? Thirsty? I could make us some sandwiches. Carson, you always used to love - what was it you loved? Tuna salad?" 

Carson hates tuna salad. 

His fingers clench into a fist. 

"We wouldn't want to impose," Aaron says, smiling like the charming little boy Carson's sure he was. "Actually, if it's all right, I'd like to take you both out to dinner. My treat. 

"Oh! I. I'd love to, certainly, that would be lovely." She hasn't even questioned Aaron's presence, or asked who he is to Carson. "Just give me a few minutes to put my face on, sweetheart."

* 

Aaron stands as soon as Carson's mother has walked away. He holds a hand out, expectant. "Come on. I want to see your room." 

"She's probably turned it into a meth lab," Carson mumbles, but leads the way. 

She hasn't. 

She hasn't done anything to it. 

"It's exactly the fucking same," Carson says, but the sting is out of his voice. 

He sits down on the edge of his bed. The bedding looks like it's been washed, and the room doesn't even smell as stale as he'd thought it would. The window is open, letting in a breeze. 

He hadn't taken much when he'd left. It's all still here.

Aaron sits down beside him and puts his hand on Carson's thigh. "I like it. It's you." 

"It's me. that's why I don't like it." Carson reaches down and grips Aaron's hand tightly. 

He isn't really upset anymore, but he'd also leave in a heartbeat if he had the option. He'd whittled Aaron down to a one night minimum and then tried to assure Aaron that the chances of him changing his mind and deciding to stay longer were non-existent. 

They sit there in silence until his mother pushes open the door. Her eyes go straight to their hands and then back up to Carson, wondering and then - understanding. 

She smiles a little. "Come on now, boys. If we leave now we'll hit that spot between the blue-haired crowd and the dinner rush." 

* 

As much as Carson hates to admit it, dinner isn't that bad. They eat at the third-rate Italian joint that he remembers being the popular 'date' place for teenagers who had no real concept of what a date even was. High school girls seemed impressed enough with bad pasta and frozen cheesecake, but Carson never partook in that particular rite of passage. 

He wonders if his parents ever went on dates here. 

Probably not. They seem more like the type who skipped dinner and had unprotected sex in the back of a beat up car. 

(And thus Carson Phillips came into this world.)

His mother seems compelled to fill up the conversation with chatter, and Aaron obliges her. If Carson gives a one word response, Aaron picks up where he leaves off and fleshes out the story. His mother listens with rapt attention, murmuring and exclaiming quietly, as Aaron talks about Carson's school, Carson's job, his own job, Chicago and their apartment - Carson waits to see if she'll interject there but she just gives him another smile, quiet and almost - pleased, maybe? Carson can't read it. He's never been great at picking up on things like that, though. 

When he thinks to himself that he'll have to ask Aaron later, it occurs to him that despite all of his internal monologue ranting against it, he does still care if his mother approves of - of his _lifestyle choice_ or not. 

*

"You boys will be staying here tonight, right?" His mother asks a touch too eagerly. 

Aaron glances at Carson first, a fact for which Carson is grateful. He's glad he has the out, but he's not taking it. 

"In my room," Carson says. 

"Well, of course in your room." She smiles. "Aaron, dear, if you want a shower or to get cleaned up for bed-" 

It's a flimsy excuse for privacy and Aaron looks to Carson for his cue again. 

Carson nods. Aaron seems surprised, and happy. "I'll go grab my bag out of the car." 

There's silence between them from that moment until they can hear the shower running. 

"So," his mother says, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "How are you?" 

"I'm-" He looks at the coffee table. There are rings all over it where fresh glasses were put down and not moved for hours. He probably put a few of them there himself. "I'm all right." 

"And you're happy?" Her voice is urgent. "I want you to be happy, Carson." 

"I am." He can't remember the last time he held hands with anyone but Aaron. His mother's hand feels to small and fragile in his own. It feels breakable. 

She cups his cheek with her other hand. "You're all grown up. My baby is all grown up." 

"Yeah." He laughs a little, throat feeling raw with it. "Babies do that." 

Her smile is sad but not as sad as he remembers, and she lets her hand fall away, back to her lap. "Thank you for coming to visit. And - bringing him. He's special to you, isn't he?" 

Carson nods. Aaron is special, more special than he could ever admits. More special than he wants to. That's between them, himself and Aaron. 

* 

They sleep side by side on Carson's childhood bed. 

"Wanna fool around?" Aaron asks. 

Carson snorts. "Not on your life. There is nothing less sexy to me than the ghost of my teenage awkwardness and inexperience. It permeates this room." 

"Awww. You're no fun."" Aaron sulks.

"I'm tired," Carson says, and it's true. He hadn't slept well at Aaron's house - too unsure around so many new people, too nervous and anxious about what his visit home would bring. 

"Fine. Sleep, then. But you should totally give me roadhead tomorrow." Aaron pushes a damp kiss against Carson's jaw and rolls onto his side, plopping one arm over Carson's middle. 

The rules of personal space don't exist between them in bed. Carson likes it, he likes the familiarity and, at this moment, the grounding weight of the arm. He breathes in hard and lets it go, a pressure lifting from his chest. 

* 

They leave shortly after breakfast. 

That the day before went so well is why Carson doesn't feel like changing it by staying longer. His mother frowns and frets and cries a little, but when she hugs Carson he hugs her back. 

"I'll make sure he calls," Aaron says. 

He might actually get a bigger hug than Carson did. 

"I like him," she says to Carson, pointer finger jabbing him in the shoulder. "Keep him." 

Carson laughs - a real laugh. "I will," he says, boldly. "Whether he wants it or not." 

Aaron kisses him on the cheek. "Don't worry. He wants it." 

"Oh my god." Carson shoves him away. "You're impossible." 

His mother is laughing at both of them. "Drive safe, boys." 

* 

They head for Chicago with the windows rolled down again. They'll stop for hotels twice along the way, maybe a third night if Carson is feeling as light and spontaneous by then as he is right now. Chicago, for another month, and then New York. Aaron wants to try school somewhere, to see where his interests lie when he's not spending half of the time feeling like he should be planning a funeral instead of a future. Carson wants to grab his own destiny by the throat and march it down the path he wants. 

Maybe they'll love New York, maybe they'll hate it, maybe Carson will decide grad school is just pointless degree collecting and he wants to be more hands on, maybe Aaron will figure out that he wants a job more than he wants a career and go back to working on a coffee shop. 

For the first time in his life his future isn't something Carson feels like he needs to grimly pursue because it's all that he has. For the first time in his life, he can accept a certain amount of fluidity because the patterns shifting and changing doesn't seem as scary when someone else is floating through it with him. 

Aaron left for three weeks and he must not have liked how it felt to be alone that much, either, because he came back. Now they're together and they both know why they want it. Now they're young and happy, they're healthy and in love, and they're high on the possibilities of life and each other.


End file.
